


The Nights of My Life

by Literate_Insomniac



Category: Vampire: The Requiem
Genre: Dom/sub, F/F, F/M, Not Beta Read, Not Safe Sane and Consensual, POV Female Character, RPG characters, Secret Relationship, Triggers, Vampires
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-03-14
Updated: 2013-03-14
Packaged: 2017-12-05 06:23:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/719874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Literate_Insomniac/pseuds/Literate_Insomniac
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Leah Ann Martin had grown up knowing about the supernatural and the dangerous games that are played, but being thrust into their world is more exciting and frightening than she had imagined. A story of a group of ghouls and the lives they live on the shaded nights of Boston Massachusetts and a struggle to hold onto themselves while serving or defying the machinations of their vampire masters. Cast of Original Characters based on White Wolf's Vampire: The Requiem.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Nights of My Life

She looked at me with her head held high, she was confident. Her sire had not been joking. 

“Just who are you?’ she asked, her voice had an odd soothing quality that just does not fit her, like hanging a silver bell around the neck of a tiger. 

“A gift from your sire,” I said with no small measure of trepidation in my own voice, but that cocky sense of defiance I seem to have had since I was born surfaced again, “if you can tame me,” I replied, holding out the sealed parchment I had been told to present to her.

She eyed it suspiciously before opening it to read. A scowl passed over her calculated features. 

“How kind of him” she muttered. She walked back into the room, dropping the letter on a nearby table and sitting in a plush leather chair. “Well? Come here.” She said, looking exasperated that I had chosen to linger by the door. 

I decided to humor her and strolled inside, casually of course, on my terms. Or so I thought at the time. 

She pointed to the ground at her feet expectantly. 

I look at her dead in the eyes, an almost playful smirk twisting over my lips. “No” I said, relishing in the thrill of defiance that I have always seemed to crave.

She smiled. “Suit yourself” she said quietly. Her own smile becoming something wicked. 

I shuddered at the sight. Just what did she have planned for me? 

She pointed to a shelf on the other side of the room, “Fetch me that” she ordered, referring to a black, lacquered box. 

In hindsight I know that people like me crave the feeling of being bent and shaped under someone’s will, which often comes in the form of some kind of punishment or reprimand. I knew the box would contain some device for such a purpose so I obeyed. 

She took it from me gracefully, despite the fact that I held it carelessly aloft in one hand at the edge of a corner. However, I was curious so I lingered to see what was inside.

Cushioned on plush velvet, lay a silver knife covered in ornate etchings. I was so distracted by it I didn’t see her hand lash out; I just felt my head snap to the side.

“Do you taste that?” she asked, turning the blade over in her hands, looking rather bored. 

I wasn’t sure what she meant until my tongue pressed against the inside of my cheek. “…Yes” I answered hesitantly, carefully righting myself.

“And? What do you think?” she asked, still giving the silver knife all her attention. 

“It’s blood, what the hell am I supposed to think?” I answer incredulously, perhaps growing a little frustrated, maybe even frightened by now. 

A long smile twisted over her fangs. I knew she would have them but they still sent water to my knees and shivers down my spine. 

“You will come to crave blood”, she told me, a promise not a threat. “Let me show you.” she wrapped her hand around the blade and finally looked up at me, “but you’ll have to kneel,” she tapped the tip of her boot against the floor just in front of her. 

My curiosity won out; at least she had shag carpeting. 

I felt her smiling down at me with sickly sweet satisfaction, “There was that so hard?” she sing-songed at me. 

I growled at her and she almost laughed, “One step at a time I suppose. But I do keep my word”.

She slashed the blade through her fingers with an inhuman decisiveness and held her hand out to me. Crimson liquid started to gather against the pale skin of her palm and I was fascinated, intoxicated just by the sight. Something deep inside me hungered for this, like I had never drunk anything at all in my life. I wanted to resist… I swear I did with everything I had, but I just couldn’t. As her satisfied smirk goaded me on I bent my head to press my lips against her blood-slicked skin. 

And that’s how it started. That’s how, within ten minutes of meeting this woman, I had set down a path of violence and blood and terrible things I had once reserved for my nightmares. A path I’m about to take you down. 

Be sure to step lightly.


End file.
